Then There s You
by Miss Puppet
Summary: Daryl does something nice for Carol.
1. Chapter 1

**Then There's You  
**_Rated_: K+  
_Pairings_: Daryl/Carol  
Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. The Walking Dead belongs to AMC**, **Robert Kirkman , Toby Moore and Charlie Adlard.**  
**_Spoilers_: Season 1-3  
_Summary_: Basically, Daryl does a nice thing for Carol.  
_Genre_: Friendship/hurt/comfort  
_Warnings_: There's mention of abuse. Nothing too graphic and probably nothing you can't avoid when dealing with this characters, but still.

_Author's notes:_

I ship them like crazy and I can't wait to see what season 4 has in store for them (fingers crossed for some kind of progress) but at the moment I only seem to able to write these 'stuck in the friendship- zone' kind of fics.  
Also, this story is an excersise in ´writing things from Daryl´s POV´.

* * *

**Part 1**

The news had been greeted with a round of applause and a wave of excitement that seemed to resonate all through the cafeteria where they were gathered for dinner. Now that the prison had to accommodate so many more people it was vital to get some facilities up in working order.  
Among the newcomers from Woodbury there had been some very skilled craftsmen, one of them a retired plumber and another a female mechanic. Between them they had managed to get a few of the showers back to work. It had been a godsend gift to all of them. To the Woodbury folks who sorely missed the comforts from their former safe haven and to the group of Atlanta survivors and the Greene family, since their last shower dated from back at the farm. The thrilled faces all around made it pretty clear just how much this lucky break was needed.

"Listen up everybody," Rick called above the elated chatter and giggles. "We have currently two showers up, but the amount of hot water at our disposal is minimum, so we need to share. We shower in groups of three per cabinet. We only have enough electricity to heat the water tank once a day, so it's six people each day and we all take turns. It's not much people, but at least it's something."

His words put a slight damper on the mood for a moment, but then he gestured towards Hershel, who was holding a bit of paper.  
"Hershel's drafted up a schedule. At least you'll know when it's your turn. The first six people can go tonight."

At this a fresh rush of frantic whispers filled the room again, everyone gathering around the older man, crossing their fingers and hoping they'd be among the first chosen.

"Alright," Hershel started, obviously enjoying his role. "I´ve decided to adopt a ladies' first policy, so here it goes…" At first he called the names of four elderly women from Woodbury and then he turned to the Atlanta group huddling together at the side, continuing with an even wider grin:  
"And last but not least: Maggie… and Carol."

From his customary spot on the stairs, Daryl watched the commotion with wry amusement. It was nice to have the showers up and running, and he reckoned he would probably be even more enthusiastic about it when he returned from his next hunt, all covered up in dirt. But looking at the faces of some of the people in front of him you'd think they'd won the damn lottery. Still, he was pleased Hershel had chosen Carol first.

Beth looked pretty crestfallen though, he noticed, although she was trying her very best to smile.  
It was only then that he saw that Carol appeared to be less than excited and that her smile was as forced as Beth's was.

Dinner had finished and most of the people started to drift away. As the noise and bustle died down, he could hear Beth ask Carol in a bright voice: "So, are you excited about getting a shower tonight?"

He strained his ears to hear her answer and when it came it confirmed his hunch.

"If you like you can take my turn."

"Really!" Beth exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course," Carol replied smiling at the teen. "I don't mind"

From where he was sitting Daryl could see the relief flooding Carol´s face and he frowned a little. Something was off, he was sure of it.

"Daddy! Carol says I can take her turn," Beth announced, almost bubbling over with happiness. "I´ll get to shower tonight!"

"That's awfully nice of her…" Hershel said slowly, turning his gaze towards Carol and Daryl felt a significant increase of respect for the man´s sense of perception when he noticed he looked just as astonished as he felt. "But are you sure? You've been so busy lately helping all the Woodbury folks to get settled in… I felt like you deserved it."

The smile Carol gave him was filled with genuine gratefulness, but she didn´t waver. "Thank you, Hershel. I really appreciate it. I'm just not… one for showers. Never really liked them… so Beth's more than welcome to take my turn."

_She was lying through her teeth_! Daryl reeled to himself, absent-mindedly starting to bite the nail of his thumb, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

As Hershel continued to look unconvinced, Carl suddenly piqued up. "Aren't you claustrophobic?"

_"Yes!_" The eagerness with which Carol jumped on the excuse completely gave the game away as far as Daryl was concerned.  
"Yes, that's exactly it. Confined spaces make me uncomfortable. It's no big deal, I'd just… rather not use the shower."

"Alright," Hershel eventually conceded. "If you're really sure. That means you can go tonight, Beth."

His youngest daughter practically skipped away and Carol offered Hershel a small grin before she started to walk away herself.

Deciding instantly that he was going to get to the bottom of this, Daryl jumped down from the stairs and followed her into the kitchen.

"What was that all about?" he asked under his breath, so no-one else would overhear them.

"What?" Carol asked, turning around, her eyes two blue pools of innocence and surprise.

He wasn't distracted though. "Don't play dumb with me," he growled, sounding angrier than he'd intended. "What's with ya givin' up ya spot for Beth?"

"I don't like showers," she parroted her words from earlier. "Make me feel claustrophobic."

She hadn't blinked once since they started talking and he became more and more convinced she was hiding something.

"Bullshit!" He declared firmly, crossing his arms in front of him.

She lifted her chin defiantly at him. "No, it's not."

"Ya weren't too claustrophobic to take a shower at the CDC," he stated calmly. "Or at the Greene's farm."

"That was different…" she was getting agitated now. "I just don't like showers, what's the big deal?"

He just couldn't let go. Briefly it crossed his mind that he was pestering her much in the same way as she had done to him when they'd been at the farm and he had wanted to keep the hell away from everyone. He could understand why she was getting defensive with him, he just couldn't let it rest.

"We're three year into the end of the world and ya still make sure we got clean laundry. Ya cell's the damn cleanest one there is, probably even cleaner than it's ever been. Ya bathe littl' asskicker everyday… but ya want me to buy ya don't like the shower?"

She took a sharp intake of breath before she started to say something but faltered after a few syllables. Then she looked down, her shoulders slumping a little.  
"Can we just drop it?" She asked quietly. "I don't like showers… Beth's thrilled to have one tonight… everybody wins."

He almost left it at that. He hated people digging into his own affairs and she was pretty adamant about her refusal. It was just his gut feeling. He remembered it from the winter they'd been traveling from around, before they'd settled at the prison. It'd been the feeling he got whenever he saw her push her food towards Carl or Beth. Whenever he saw her hand the warmest blanket to Lori, settling for the thin rag herself. That nagging feeling that if he didn't look after her, no-one else would.

"What's goin' on?" His kept his voice soft and watched how her gaze darted back to his, a startled expression in her eyes. And what his logic and arguments hadn't achieved, this simple question did: her resolve crumbled.

"I don't want to share a shower."

He blinked in surprise. That was one reason he hadn't considered and it made little sense to him. Modesty and privacy were luxuries that had been given up on a long time ago. There was little to nothing they hadn't shared with each other in the past two years. Sure, people still adverted their eyes politely when someone was changing clothes or went off into the woods for a second when nature called, but none of them could be called prudish anymore.

Carol rolled her eyes at him as he continued to stare at her, a bewildered expression on his face and tugged his wrist, steering him to the far end of the kitchen where the changes of being overheard where the smallest. She sighed resignedly before she explained herself very quickly and very softly.

"I have a… mark on my back… a little souvenir from Ed." She was deliberately trying to make her voice sound light-hearted, but Daryl already felt his stomach clenching in anger. "I don't know that either Maggie or Beth know the full details about my marriage to him, but I know for sure the Woodbury people know nothing about it and I´d like to keep it that way."

"Would they be able to tell from…" he started, unable to finish the sentence, the anger closing around this throat like a fist.

"Yes, they would," she stated flatly. Then she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please Daryl… I don't want to have to explain… it's none of their business… and more importantly, it's not who I am anymore."

He couldn't and would book no argument to that. Despite the close quarters they'd been living in, only Hershel and Carol had ever seen him without a shirt for the very same reason and that wasn't about to change. Still, it did nothing to alleviate his anger. If anything, it only seemed to increase. That good-for-nothing bastard of a husband of her had actually marked her. Left visible proof of his abuse on her. For a brief moment he wondered what he could of have done to her that made it so obvious, but the thought alone made his skin crawl and he pushed it away vehemently.

Becoming aware that Carol was looking at him, slightly apprehensive, expecting him to say something, he eventually managed to grunt out. "S'not fair ya have to give up ya shower because of the son of a bitch."

She smiled her crooked smile and shrugged slightly. "Yeah, well… what´s fair has become a relative concept these days."  
To his utter surprise she relaxed against the wall, all tension apparently leaving her body, as if by sharing her reasons for not wanting to shower with him had made the crux of the matter disappear entirely.

"I don't mind, really!" She insisted, her voice light and not the least bit bothered. "I have a bucket and a my washcloth… I'll be fine. It's not like I have been getting actual complains about my appearance. Unless you want to start making them now…"

And with that her grin turned teasing and her eyes started to twinkle and he instantly lost the upper hand in their conversation. The colossal gap between what he wanted to say and what he was actually able to get out of his mouth leaving him speechless and tongue-tied once again.

One day he was going to be able to respond to her teasing, challenging words like he wanted to. One day he wasn't going to stand there like a damn mute, but he would give her a response. Hell, he´d show here one.  
Today though was not going to be that day.

Taking pity on him, Carol backed away a little from him. "It's fine," she insisted one more time. "Really, it is."

* * *

**I´d love to hear what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ It could not be less mine. The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, Robert Kirkman , Toby Moore and Charlie Adlard.

_Author´s note_: Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

But of course things weren´t fine. And the more he thought about it, the more aggravated he became. The matter mulled through his head for the best part of the night, as he was up in the watch tower, taking the graveyard shift. They´d been having the first real days of summer for the past week and a she leaned over the railings of the watch tower, staring in the dark, watching the walkers shuffle around near the gates, he enjoyed the lingering warmth of the summer night, still replaying bits and pieces of their earlier conversation in his mind.

_"… and more importantly, it's not who I am anymore."_ That one sentence kept reverberating through his mind. It was amazing how far she'd come from the frightened, downtrodden woman she'd been back at the quarry. These days she was the heart of their community. It wasn´t until the Woodbury survivors had moved into the prison that he realized just how vital her role was to the group. Surviving this madness, if there was any hope of doing so, had long ago stopped being a matter of being able to trash as many walker heads as possible. The part that had come relatively easy to him. Sticking together, keeping what was left of the world as they used to know safe, holding on to their humanity when everything else around them was decaying into hell had become the greatest challenge.

He had long ago stopped worrying about them all being infected with the virus. What he- what any of them could become after they´d died wasn´t half as terrifying as what the living could become in this world. Shane, the Governor… the group of sick bastards that kid Randall had hooked up with… And even uncomfortably closer: Ricks delusional spells, Carl´s fading conscience… they all formed a far greater danger. And he himself still felt sick to his stomach as he remembered how he´d beat up that boy, back at the Greene´s farm, trying to get him to talk. The memory of that day still haunted him. For a fleeting, nauseating moment he hadn´t seen his own fists slamming down on the boy´s face, but those of his father. And had believed in that moment he was turning into him. But at the same time a twisted sense of fear and self-preservation had kept him going and made him carry on.

He´d felt the same emotions during the first two weeks or so after the arrival of the Woodbury people. He had been less than thrilled about this addition to their group, not trusting any of them as far as he could throw them. He could still remember the hate radiating from their faces as the Governor had edged them on, demanding that he and Merle would fight to their death. It had been so tempting just to wish for their small group to remain exactly what it was and keep those people out.

It had been Carol who´d worked tirelessly and endlessly to make it all work. To help the Woodbury people integrate. To iron out the million and one problems and obstacles that came with dividing space and resources among so many people. She was taking up so many responsibilities that over the winter he´d often wondered how she didn´t went bat shit crazy. She still assisted at most medical procedures and trained under Hershel and the new doc from Woodbury. She started teaching the small group of children that now lived at the prison. She took watch duty as often as every other, along with Beth she was Judith´s primary caregiver, she took care of most of the food preparations, she organized the laundry and cleaning of the place… she appeared to be everywhere at once and where he at first had worried she´d crack under so much pressure, he´d began to realize after a while that instead she was thriving.

She was radiant, constantly walking around with a damn smile on her face, beaming at everyone that crossed her path. With some uneasiness he became aware that he wasn´t the only one noticing it. She was much in demand by the Woodbury people, who all came to her with their questions, problems and troubles because she gave them a kind ear, a smile or a word of encouragement. The blatant interest in her from the likes of Tyreese and various Woodbury men had been making him uneasy for some time now.

It pissed him off to no end that this amazing woman was still held back by the actions of a worthless asshole. It wasn´t right and he had this compelling need to do something about it.

Slowly a plan started to form inside his head and the more he thought it over, the more he became convinced that he would actually be able to pull it off. There were a few obstacles to overcome, but he´d manage that. And it would be so worth it. He could do better for her than a five minute shower in a crammed cabinet.

By the time dawn broke his mind was made up and when Glenn came to relieve him of duty, he headed straight back inside the prison, getting his plan into motion.

* * *

His first goal was to get Rick on board. Which he figured wouldn´t be too much of a problem. Falling into step with the ex-cop who was currently checking the parameters, he announced matter-of factly: "I wanna take Carol with me on a run t´day."

Rick stood still and looked at him in surprise, his eyes squinting a little against the light of the rising sun.  
"We're not short on anything at the moment."

"I know that," he answered a little defiantly. He wasn't asking permission. Just informing the man.

Rick paused, checking his surroundings for a moment. "Any particular reason?" he asked eventually.

Daryl looked away, biting the inside of his cheek, his gaze drifting to the grounds around the prison without really seeing anything, weighing his options.  
"Last night she gave up her turn to have a shower."  
He hoped it would be enough of an explanation.

"I noticed that," Rick answered slowly, 'do you know why?"

"She told me why," he replied curtly, not wanting to betray her confidence, feeling the other man's eyes on him. "She has her reasons."

"You're going to take care of her?"

The sudden, blunt question shocked the hell out of him and he squared himself before he met Rick´s steady gaze again. Rick was smiling knowingly, with a lightness in his look, a touch of heartfelt joy and approval and he realized he didn´t need to explain any further.

"I'll take care of her, alright," he grunted back.

Rick´s smile widened a touch. "Then go for it."

Not making any other verbal reply, Daryl nodded with a smirk and stalked off. One barrier down. Another huge one to go.

* * *

It was only when he stepped into the deserted backyard that served as an outdoors laundry room that he began to seriously doubt the sanity of his plan.

Apparently Carol, Beth and a few of the other women had been busy the day before, because the space was filled with drying laundry, hanging from clothes lines that spun from one side of the yard to the other and for a moment he felt completely at loss in this sea of sheets, shirts, pants and underwear. But eventually he spotted a crimson top that looked familiar and as he walked closer towards it, he was sure it belonged to Carol.

His next move was a bit of a gamble and he rather depended on Carol's sense of organisation in keeping all the laundry separated. He tore the tank top from the line, along with a pair of pants and after a hint of hesitation some panties and a bra that hung right next to it. It had to belong to her, otherwise he was in for it. Grabbing a plastic bag that was lying around and pulling a towel and wash cloth with him along the way, he stuffed the clothes into it and hurried towards the front of the prison where his bike was stalled, glad for this part to be over. While he was shoving the bag into the saddlebags of his bike he kept glancing around him nervously. No one needed to know before he´d worked up the guts to approach her.

Over the course of the morning he managed to add a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap in there as well.

Now that the preparations had been made, it was time to find her.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think! **


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer:_ It could not be less mine. The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, Robert Kirkman , Toby Moore and Charlie Adlard.

_Author´s note_: Thanks for reviewing. The title comes from a song from Greg Laswell: ´And Then You´, which I think is a very shippy song for this pairing. (Then again, I find most songs I listen to very shippy songs these days)  
I hope you´ll enjoy this last part.

* * *

**Part 3**

"Go with you? Why?" She was giving him a wide-eyed stare, her eyebrows raised in bewilderment. "Are we going on a run or something?"

"Something like that, not exactly," he replied. He'd thought collecting her underwear had been challenging, but asking her to come with him for no apparent reason proved to be even more difficult.

"Already cleared it with Rick," he offered by way of explanation. "Got something to show ya."

"Alright…" She didn't look wholly convinced, but she took up her knife from the counter and attached it to her belt. "Anything else I should bring?"

"Nah, ya good," he replied, pride surging through him. Taking a knife with her wherever she went and knowing how to use it was a second nature to her now. Something she did without even thinking about it.  
She was still eyeing him suspiciously and he decided that it would probably be for the best if he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. But as they made their way to his bike, he could feel his tension increasing, a hint of doubt starting in the pit of his stomach whether or not this was such a good idea after all.  
He tensed up even more when she placed her hands on his waist, just above his hips once she'd settled on the back seat. She'd rode with him countless times and her holding onto him in this way had become a pretty regular thing. It made sense and it was much safer for her than holding on to the handles behind her seat. But even after all this time he couldn't completely relax into feeling her hands on him like that. Kicking the engine into gear they drove off as Carl closed the gate behind them.

Their friendship was a strong one. Out of all the survivors he was closest to her. Probably even more than he'd been to Merle. At least their bond was a lot less dysfunctional. But he knew that every bit of progress their relationship had made was because of her. She'd drawn him out of his self-imposed shell, unfazed by his angry outbursts, his sulky silences and his gruff demeanour. She'd never once gave up on him. At times she'd pulled back, gave him the space he needed, but she'd always returned. Insisting he ate, insisting he got a few hours of sleep, insisting unwaveringly against all his objections that he was a good man, that he was worth every ounce of trust the group placed in him.

He didn't often take the initiative to deepen their budding relationship, but he was acutely aware of the fact that that was what he was doing right now. And he was terrified the entire thing would go to hell because of it.

Aside from his growing nervousness, the ride itself went smoothly and after about twenty minutes or so he stopped. They were on a deserted road in the middle of the woods. It was in the middle of the day and warm and humid, the sun shining brightly through the roof of leaves above them. Apart from a few chirping birds and humming bees there wasn't a sound to be heard.

"Where are we?" Carol asked, climbing of her seat and looking at him expectantly.

"Come on," he told her, not quite meeting her eyes, grabbing the plastic bag instead. "Just a littl' further."

He led her into the woods over a barely visible path, every now and then looking back to see if she was following.

"Daryl…" Her voice was a mixture of amusement and confusion. "Where the hell are we going? What's this about?"

"Calm down, woman," he grumbled. "We're almost there… I aint goin' to do anything to ya…"

"Pity," she dead panned with a grin and he scowled at her, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

Finally and much to his relief they arrived at their destination, a forest creek hidden away from the road. Realizing he had some final explaining to do, Daryl turned around to face her, gathering his nerve.

"Since ya didn't get to shower… I thought ya might like to take a dip..." He found it impossible to maintain eye contact with her and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, helplessly stumbling on. "I've been here before… the area's pretty safe…" He trailed of again, wishing to God she'd say something.

She kept quiet, but when at last his gaze settled on her face he noticed her eyes were wide and radiant and that the smile that was spreading across her lips kept growing wider until it threatened to split her face in two.  
"Really?" she whispered as if her talking too loudly would cause him to change his mind.

"Sure…" She was looking like fucking Christmas had arrived and her beaming at him made him feel self-conscious as hell.  
"I've grabbed some stuff," he told her, thrusting the bag at her. "Don't know if it's what ya need…"

Carol rummaged through its contents, her excitement growing rapidly. "Clothes, shampoo… a towel… you´ve thought of everything." She looked up again. "I can't believe you did this!"

Despite being pleased that she at least appreciated the effort, the awkwardness of it all still made him squirm.  
"Yeah… well… just get in… told Rick we wouldn't be gone too long…"

"Thank you, Daryl," she told him sincerely and whatever gruff, backhanded comment he was going to make got stuck in his throat. When she was looking at him like that, with those doe-like eyes and a smile as if she thought he'd hung the fucking moon it felt like his heart got too big for his chest.

"Get in alright," he repeated, finally relaxing a little when it began to settle with him that he did good.

She gave him another brilliant smile and started to walk towards the creek. "It's beautiful here," she remarked, her voice filled with awe and he could only agree with her. Lush greenery surrounded the creek and the water was clear and sparkling, descending from a few tall rocks into the stream.

"S' probably cold though!' He warned her.

"Doesn't matter," she replied enthusiastically. "Hey Daryl…" she waited until he was fully facing her. "Are you going to join me?"

_Oh fuck. _

He hadn't expected that and now he felt like a prized moron for not seeing it coming. And the worst of it was that she wasn't even teasing him like every other damned time she flirted with him like that. Her eyes were completely serious and with a jolt he realized that if he agreed now she'd actually let him get in the water with her. The tension between them had been brewing for quite some time, but he had never been sure. Had never actually believed she'd want him that way. Until now.

But for today he had already stretched as far as he was able to. And even if he wanted to, which he did in so many ways, it was too soon. A step too far.

"Nah…" He answered her, a little dejectedly, once again unable to look directly at her. "I'll keep watch… make sure ya don't get hurt…"

"Alright." His head snapped up at the warmth in her voice. Her eyes were soft and understanding and he knew then that she had him figured out a damn deal more than he´d ever manage himself. He smiled back at her, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders.

He sat himself down on a rock, his back facing her, his crossbow within reach. From where he was sitting he had a clear view on the path and the bike in the distance and he listened to the sounds behind him. The rustling of clothes as she hurried out of them, an almighty splash and her whoop of joy and shock at the coldness of the water.

He grinned at his boots. Good girl, jumping right in. None of that toe dipping shit.

"Oh god, the water is glorious!" Carol exclaimed behind him and he could hear her splashing about. She shrieked and splashed about some more and he found that her happiness was starting to rub off on him. Sitting there, the warm sunlight bathing his face, listening to her, he felt content, truly content for the first in a very long time.  
After a minute or so she quit her racket. "Daryl?"

"Hmmm…" he replied drowsily, closing his eyes against the sun.

"Did you often go swimming outside?"

"All the time," he answered. "Merle taught me how. You?"

"When I was little my dad took me on camping trips." Carol´s voice sounded pensive. "We went to this huge, beautiful lake with a little island in the middle. We´d row over there and spend the day swimming."

"Sounds good." He realized he´d never heard her mention her father before.

"It sure was. He taught me how to… give me a sec, I need to rinse my hair…" There were more sounds of water splashing and he figured she had dived under water. He quickly scanned the surroundings, satisfied to find that everything was still quiet and safe.

"He taught me how to swim with my eyes open… " she continued after she´d emerged again. "It was beautiful underwater."

"I never took ya for the outdoorsy kind," he teased.

"Oh, I used to love it," she replied drily. "But the walkers kind of ruined it for me.

I'm getting out now," she informed him, moments later. "I'll let you know when I'm decent."

Suddenly the summer heat was getting uncomfortable and he grunted hoarsely by way of acknowledgment, a heavy silence suddenly falling between them.

It happened about ten seconds later. He heard the rustling a split second before she gasped and by then he was already in front of her, his crossbow perched on this shoulder, staring intently at the tall shrubbery in front of him where the noise was coming from. The leaves started to shake more violently and he could feel every muscle in his body tensing. Then a ground dog shuffled from the bushes and he released the arrow before he breathed a sigh of relief. The arrow shot through the air and deftly pierced the chubby animal which immediately dropped to the ground.

'Hello dinner," he said smirking.

Carol let out a relieved laugh as well, lowering the knife she was holding out in front of her. It was only then that he noticed what she was wearing. Or rather, how little of it. That morning he had pulled a greyish towel along with him which was currently wrapped around her slender form, barely covering her ass and upper body.

In an attempt to hide his embarrassment he cast his eyes downwards, but nearly groaned as he realized his mistake. He was now staring at her legs and it did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

'_Where the hell did she get legs like that?_' he thought wildly, his mouth going as dry as sanding paper. Try as he might, he couldn't look away. Her legs were long and muscular, the smooth curve of her calves ending at the dip of her knees, changing into the silky skin of her tights that appeared to go on for a long time before they finally met the hem of the towel.

"Good catch," she told him, completely oblivious to the turmoil that was going on inside his head. At her voice, his head shot up and settled on her bare shoulders.  
"I don't think there's anything else around," she said quietly, looking around her for good measure.

It was then that he saw it and instantly all thoughts of her legs and growing discomfort evaporated and were replaced with a cold fury, so intense that it made his insides clench painfully.

There was a mark on her back, right below her right shoulder blade, just as she'd told him and he stared horrified at the visual proof of Ed's abuse.  
It was a nasty burn mark, triangular in shape. The skin was red and blotchy with dark blue ridges where skin was most damaged.  
It looked badly healed and he was willing to bet his crossbow that the wound had never been properly treated.

She looked back at him in surprise when she didn't receive an answer, but when she noticed the look in his eyes and his fixed gaze on her shoulder her face fell and nervous red spots appeared on her cheeks and in her neck. Someone might as well could have topped a bucket of ice cold water over their heads. The relaxed, comfortable atmosphere between them had vanished completely. Taking a shaking breath, Carol looked down at her feet. "I'd better get dressed."

"Yeah… should get goin' anyway," he muttered, turning around and walking towards the dead ground dog.  
He yanked the arrow from the animal and groped around in his pocket for a bit of string. When he found one he tried to tie its hind legs, but he found that his hands were shaking, images of marred, burned skin swarming his head.  
What had that godforsaken bastard done to her? How did she get a triangular burn on her back like that?  
Suddenly the penny dropped and he felt the bile rise in his throat as his mind provided him with the images of how exactly she had sustained an injury like that.

"All set," Carol told him in a quiet, defeated voice. Unable to look at her, he stalked past her without saying a word in the direction of the path.

* * *

Carol felt like crying her eyes out in frustration. Risking another glance sideways at the fuming man beside her, she noticed a muscle twisting in his jaw. He was furious now and their afternoon was completely ruined.

And it had been so wonderful. A perfect afternoon actually. It had been a very long time ago since she'd felt so cared for. The thoughtfulness of what he had done for her, the sweetness of it had caused her stomach to flutter. Now hot tears were stinging her eyes because she feared that that stupid mark on her back had set them way back, had ruined all the progress they'd made today. He was closing himself off again and she could only guess the reason. Perhaps the scar had reminded him of his own abusive past, perhaps it reminded him of the weak person she'd been all these years, perhaps he was simply disgusted by it, perhaps… she fought the urge to groan out loud.

She could guess about the why until she turned blue, fact was she wasn't going to let him pull away from her like that. Not over this. Not after what he'd done for her today. Not after realizing again this afternoon that she'd found a good man, a considerate and caring man while the rest of the world had become a mess.  
She almost smiled as she remembered how he'd sat there, his back turned to her the entire time she'd been in the water. It was the end of the world and she'd found the most decent guy ever. One she wasn´t going to give up on. Ed had ruined enough of her life, she wasn't going to let him take this away from her as well.

"Daryl! Wait!" She called as they reached the road, standing still and placing her hands on her hips, determined not to move until they'd worked this out somehow.

"Get on," her growled, moving towards the bike, still not looking at her.

"No!" she answered firmly.

"Dammit!" he swore loudly, slamming his crossbow to the ground, finally facing her. "Get ya ass on that bike!"

"No!" she said again, cursing herself as she heard her voice waver a little. Swallowing down the tears she moved closer to him. "We're not leaving like this. I have a mark on my back… so what?"

"SO WHAT?" he roared indignantly, almost spluttering on the words. "What the hell, Carol? That son of a bitch _burned_ ya!"

At least now she knew his anger was mostly directed at Ed and the thought calmed her somewhat. "Yes he did," she answered. "It happened a long time ago."

"What did he do to ya?" he asked quietly now, but his eyes still blazing.

For a second she contemplated side-stepping the question. But then she saw the haunted look in his eyes and realized that if she didn't tell him what had happened, he would fill in the blanks himself, his own dark memories most likely providing him with an even more horrible version. So instead she decided to tell him the basic facts only.

"It happened when Sophia was about a year old… Ed became worse after she was born… I reckon he realized she was more important to me than he was and he couldn't deal with it… he came home one day as I was ironing the laundry, upset about some money that had gone missing.

I had no idea where it was, hadn't seen it or spend it, but Ed didn't believe me. He started yelling at me… hitting me… and when I still couldn't tell him… he grabbed the flat-iron and pressed it to my back.

It was about the worst thing he's ever done to me."

Telling the story was still difficult. It _had_ been the worst thing Ed had ever done to her and from that moment on she'd been terrified of him, living each day in fear.

"The bastard's lucky he's dead…" Daryl growled, but most of the anger had left him and Carol felt her own anxiety fade. He was shuffling closer, leaning towards her again and she took it as a good sign.

"Well, he very much is," she agreed. "He's gone, he can't ever hurt me again."

He was looking at her, staring at her intently as if he was trying to figure out something. She offered him a small smile, her heart jumping in relief when his expression softened.

"He's gone," she repeated. "And you're here now."

As his eyes widened in surprise, the full implication of what she'd said, of what her words suggested sunk in, but she refused to look away. He had fully taken over the place Ed had once occupied, both in her heart and her thoughts. And instead of filling her with fear he made her happy.

"Thank you for what you did today," she said quietly.

He shrugged, suddenly looking awkward again. "S'no big deal."

"It is to me," she insisted, referring to so much more than just the creek. "Thank you."

He let her words sink in for moment before giving her a tiny smile. "Let's go home," he told her, almost gently.

She nodded in agreement, returning his smile before following him to the bike and climbing on the back seat. He sat down in front of her and as she put her hands on his waist again, like she'd done earlier that afternoon, he suddenly reached out and circled his arm around her, the tips of his fingers caressing her lower back for a second. It was only a brush of a touch, but to her it felt like every nerve in her back was suddenly on fire.

"Ya safe?" he aksed

"Yeah…" she answered, holding on a little tighter. "All safe."

"All'right," He gripped the handlebars and kicked the engine into life.

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